Disclaimer: This is the last time in this fic that I will get to say that JK Rowling and everything she’s created don’t belong to me……

Hey everyone! So this is it I guess. The last chapter of Harry’s sixth year. We will see the Hufflepuff/Gryffindor Quidditch match, whether or not Lupin is going to wake up, and, of course, the train ride home. Enjoy!

I can’t believe this is the last time!

Okay, well, it’s really not. Because of the sequel and everything. But still.

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Chapter Thirty-One: Something Worth Fighting For

“Oh, come on, Harry, it won’t be that bad,” Hermione said, wiping a spot off the arm of his Quidditch robes. “I mean, yes, the Hufflepuffs are a bit angry at the moment, but they aren’t like Slytherin. They wouldn’t actually try to hurt you or anything. I mean, they’re Hufflepuff, after all.”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about this.”

“Yeah, Hermione,” Ron added, looking warily around at all the bustling students crowded into the stands around them. They were standing just below the Gryffindor stands with the rest of the team, waiting to head out onto the field. “Just think of how this last week has been. I bet they would let Snape out on us if they could.”

Hermione turned to Ron, eyed him for a moment, then began to attack the back of his robes instead of Harry’s. Harry managed a weak grin. “Hermione, if you aren’t worried about the game, then why are you trying to rub the color off our robes?”

Hermione dropped her hands and blushed slightly. “I am not.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Look, they aren’t going to do anything,” Hermione stated resolutely to both of them. “They won’t, you’ll see. They probably got all of their anger out on us during the past week.” She paused. “But all the same, I am going to be sitting near to the teachers the whole time with my wand ready.”

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. “Right,” Harry replied. “Well then, I guess we—”

But before he could finish his statement, a loud, booming voice could be heard throughout the stadium. A very familiar voice, at that. “AND NOW! WELCOME TO THE LAST QUIDDITCH MATCH OF THE YEAR! WE HAVE OUR VERY OWN GRYFFINDOR VERSUS HUFFLEPUFF, AND WHAT A SHOWDOWN IT SHOULD BE! IT ALL COMES DOWN TO THIS! THERE’S NO TURNING BACK NOW! NOWHERE TO FLY BUT UP! NO ONE TO WIN BUT GRY—”

“Thomas!” McGonagall could be heard scolding him. “Please, I thought you assured me you wouldn’t act like our previous commentator, Jordan, in regards to biased remarks and childish jargi—”

“Right, right, sorry professor. Oh, and by the way, Seamus asked if he could help me commentate on the match, and I said sure, so can he—”

“Yes, Thomas, yes! Now please, for Merlin’s sake, get on with the game!”

“Oh, right. AND NOW! INTRODUCING THE FIRST TEAM, A VERY POLITE, WELL-MANNERED, RESPECTABLE—”

“Hey Dean!” Seamus piped up. “Did she say it was okay for me to come?”

“Yeah, mate! Do you wanna introduce Hufflepuff?”

“Why thank you.”

“Certainly.”

“Okay, so, we’ve got the chasers: Martin, Bates, and Pritchard, and the beaters: Rollands and Renniford, and the keeper: Strom, and finally, the new Hufflepuff captain and seeker: Finch-Fletchley!”

The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw stands cheered loudly and excitedly as the team flew onto the field. The Hufflepuff stands, in particular, were near to being ecstatic. The closest they had ever come before to school glory was in fourth year, during the Triwizard Tournament with Cedric. Now, it looked as if they were trying to will their team to win with their clapping and screaming and stomping of the stands.

Slytherin, on the other hand, looked almost mutinous.

“AND NOW!” Dean yelled at the top of his lungs, so that the microphone gave a little screech, “NOW, THE BEST TEAM EVER! WE’VE GOT WEASLEY, WHO’S A CHASER—AND THAT’D BE GINNY, NOT RON—AND THEN SPINNET, WHO’S ALSO A CHASER, AND ALSO A GIRL, AND THEN THERE’S—ER—OH WAIT, I SEE THE OTHER CHASER, WHO’S—UH—OH YEAH! THAT’S—”

“Dean, you suck at this. Let me have a go at it. Okay! So we’ve got our three uncatchable chasers: Weasley, Spinnet, and Creevey! They are being followed by our two unbeatable beaters, Lewis and Carter! And right behind them is a seeker who will probably be famous for all of eternity, Potter! And right next to Potter, as always, is our favorite captain of all, Ron Weasley! And look! Weasley’s got a brand new Firebolt! All right Ron!!”

The Gryffindor stands erupted into applause and screaming, stomping along the stands and singing “Weasley is our king” so loudly that it seemed as if the stadium might explode with noise. From where Harry was hovering on his broomstick, he could make out the forms of certain people in the stands.

Hermione was, as she had said she would be, sitting right on the outside of the teachers’ box, beside Dean and Seamus. Neville, Lavender, Parvati, and Luna were seated behind her, all of them smiling broadly and waving up to Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Luna was wearing her lion hat once again, and she had begun to do some form of a victory dance upon the bench of the stands as Parvati and Lavender scooted slightly away from her.

Harry waved back at them, tried to catch Hermione’s eye the best be could, and gave her a thumbs-up. Ron did the same.

“Allright!” Dean continued, looking slightly offended that Seamus had interrupted him to introduce the team, “Now the game shall begin! Captains, shake hands!”

Ron and Justin flew down towards the center of the field, stopped before Madame Hooch, and shook hands. Just as Ron was about to fly back up to the goal hoops, however, Justin grabbed his arm and began to tell him something in what looked like an undertone. Harry watched curiously, as did Dean and Seamus.

“What’re they doing?”

“Do you think they’re calling it off?”

“Making new rules?”

“Discussing weekend plans?”

“Maybe they’re trading ideas on how to get the girls to—oh, wait, look, there they go again,” Seamus pointed out, looking somewhat disappointed.

Ron and Justin parted and flew back to their teams, but instead of flying back to the hoops, Ron headed straight towards Harry and came to a stop in front of him. His Firebolt glistened in the sunlight. “Look, mate,” he said quickly, glancing around at the other teammates, “we were right. Justin just said that Hufflepuff is angry and plans to play dirty. He doesn’t want to, of course, but says he can’t stop it, so he wanted to warn us. So I guess we’d better watch out. Too bad we can’t warn Hermione or anything, because she would probably know a few good hexes to use or something…”

Both boys turned to look down at Hermione, who wasn’t smiling any longer. She had stood up in the stands and was staring straight back at them, obviously knowing that something was going on.

Harry looked back at Ron. “I think she already knows.”

Ron nodded. “Just be careful mate. And try to warn Ginny, too, without making it too obvious. If Justin’s team finds out that he warned us, then he’s going to be in trouble with them for a really long time.”

Harry shivered. “Right. Come on, let’s just go. Everyone’s getting suspicious.”

Ron nodded and flew back towards the goal posts with one last look towards Hermione and the others, who were now all whispering to each other, it looked like. Harry casually began to fly around the field, moving nearer and nearer to Ginny. “Be careful, Hufflepuffs are angry,” he hissed at her as he flew by. She gave him a questioning look, but still looked like she knew what he meant, and nodded.

“ALLRIGHT! ENOUGH DELAYS! LET’S GET THE SHOW ON THE ROAD!” Dean shouted excitedly.

“What?” asked Seamus.

“Show on the road, you know,” Dean said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s a muggle saying, haven’t you ever heard—”

“Boys!” McGonagall snapped, “Please, on with the match!”

“All right, all right, professor,” Dean said defensively. “So, let the games begin! And they’re off! The Quaffle is released and it goes to … Creevey! Creevey with the Quaffle, going up the left side, racing through the Hufflepuffs left and right. Man, that kid is fast … and Bates tries to stop him, but Creevey gets through, and there’s Pritchard trying to cut him off now, Creevey has no where left to go, he attempts to pass to Weasley and … whoa! What a catch, by Ginny Weasley!”

“Weasley’s going up the middle,” Seamus cut in, “going up, there she goes, past Pritchard, who’s looking like a red haired Malfoy now—”

“Finnigan!”

“Sorry, professor, but he does! Okay so Weasley’s getting closer to the hoops now, dodges a speeding bludger—that was a close one—and she’s going, going, going …”

“Come on Ginny …”

“Faster, mate …”

“Keep going, keep going …”

“… she certainly takes a long time to go …”

“AND SHE SCORES!” Dean hollered at the top of his lungs, jumping up and down on the stands. “GINNY WEASLEY SCORES THE FIRST GOAL OF THE GAME! TEN POINTS GRYFFINDOR!”

“Excellent!” Seamus agreed beside him. “Nice work there, Weasley! Take that, Hufflepuff! Okay, wow, sorry professor, didn’t mean it …”

“And the Quaffle is released once again, Hufflepuff in possession. Martin’s got it now, yup, there she goes—and she’s soaring down the middle, tearing up the field on her broomstick—what’s this? Lewis of Gryffindor hits a bludger straight at Martin! Martin’s diving, she’s diving—and she dodges it! Gosh darni—I mean, er, nice move there, Martin …”

“Martin recovers and passes to Pritchard. Another bludger is hit towards them, this time by Carter, but Pritchard is able to avoid it. Pritchard’s going, he’s going, right down the middle—Weasley tries to stop him, she misses—Spinnet’s giving it a go—she’s getting closer—on his tail now—and—and—”

“FOUL!” both boys suddenly yelled at exactly the same moment, along with most of the other Gryffindors in the stands. Pritchard had swerved at the last moment, causing Spinnet to crash at full speed into one of the large poles surrounding the stadium. Harry groaned and caught Ron’s eye from across the field. He looked pale.

Harry then turned and squinted to see Hermione, and she was jumping up and down on the stands along with Dean and Seamus, yelling at the top of her lungs in outrage.

Ginny flew quickly down to the ground where Alexia Spinnet had fallen, and Madame Hooch hurried over as well. She shooed Ginny away immediately and tended to Spinnet, who didn’t seem to be moving. Ginny mounted her broom and soared towards Ron, yelling for Harry and the rest of the team to follow. The team didn’t waste a second and arrived by the goal posts hastily.

“She’s knocked out,” Ginny panted quickly, looking on the verge of tears. “And her arm was hanging at this weird angle, I think it might be broken. This is horrible, and sort of scary…it’s like playing Slytherin, almost…”

Everyone silently agreed. Harry rubbed his scar. “So, Justin wasn’t kidding then. Looks like Hufflepuff is still pretty mad.”

“Yeah,” Ron sighed. “Be careful, will you? All of you. We’ve already just lost a chaser, we can’t afford to lose anyone else. Now just—er—try to shake it off as best you can, I suppose—and well—good luck. Let’s hope no one else gets knocked to the ground.”

His words didn’t seem to be very encouraging, but the team stuck together just the same. “Hey Ginny,” Ron added, and she spun her broom back around towards him.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“Score some more goals, for Merlin’s sake. You’re flying as slow as Errol.”

Ginny glared back at him. “Shut up and guard your post,” she retorted in a huff, flying back to the center of the field.

Harry grinned and resumed his position as well. Madame Hooch was overseeing Alexia Spinnet as she was floated away on a stretcher, so the teams were simply hovering in the air for a few silent minutes. The Hufflepuff team was smirking mutinously at all of the Gryffindors, who began to glare back at them fiercely. There was a hushed buzzing throughout all the stands, wondering what had gotten into Hufflepuff, and what Gryffindor was going to do about it.

“Harry!” Justin suddenly called, flying quickly over to him. Harry turned and raised his eyebrows.

“You really weren’t kidding, were you?” he asked quietly, as a few of the Hufflepuff teammates turned and squinted at the seekers.

“No,” said Justin seriously. He himself looked a bit pale. “And I think it’s going to get worse. You know, I’d do something about it if I could, Harry, I really would, but—”

“I know,” Harry said honestly. “It’s okay. And look, you’d better be careful too, your team is already looking at us, and—”

“And the match is back into play!” Seamus announced, still sounding a bit miffed.

Justin and Harry watched as the Quaffle was given to Colin Creevey to start, then they gave each other one quick nod and flew off in their separate directions. The rest of the match, however, only went from bad to worse.

Seamus and Dean were scolded several times by Professor McGonagall for the amount of swearing they achieved in the next hour of the game. The Hufflepuffs were certainly showing no mercy towards the poor Gryffindors, who were being beaten to their very last whim. Madame Hooch eventually found herself awarding a penalty shot to Gryffindor every five minutes, but even then they couldn’t score. The bludgers were being pounded so maliciously towards the red and gold-robed students that they seemed to have minds of their own.

And this was greatly taking its toll on the Gryffindor team. Ginny looked like she had just gone through a war, with bloody scratches all over her and a blackened eye. Colin Creevey’s bright blond hair now was stained with a blood spot on the right side of his head, where he had been slammed into the side of the stands. He had one shoe missing and the arm of his robes were torn. Carter and Lewis, the two beaters, spent more time trying to catch up to the bludgers than they did actually hitting them. Carter not only had a black eye, but also a black shoulder, where one of his sleeves had been ripped off and an a bludger had hit him. Lewis’s arm seemed to be sprained.

Ron and Harry were also sporting injuries, even though all they could do was sit in their positions and watch hopelessly. The Hufflepuffs had quickly learned that the Quaffle could not only be used as a scoring device, but also as a weapon, and so instead of trying to throw it through the hoops, they would simply aim for Ron. This was the main cause for Ron’s bruised cheek, ear, and sore stomach.

Harry, meanwhile, was being struck by both bludgers and people. If the Hufflepuffs couldn’t hit him with the game balls, then they would simply ram themselves head on into him. Now for Harry, who was still quite a thin and gangly boy of sixteen, this was no laughing matter, and he was almost sent flying off his broom several times.

Dean and Seamus’ commentary was also quite gruesome. And several more voices could be heard in the background, as well.

“Bastard!” Dean yelled as a Hufflepuff hit another bludger towards Ginny and caused her to spiral upside down on her broom.

“Cowards! Dimwits! Dunderheads!” Seamus added, shaking his fist at the match.

“That wasn’t fair!” Hermione practically screamed in the background. “No, now THAT wasn’t in the rulebook, either! You’re cheating, you are, and oh! Harry! Are you all ri—Ron! Oh, Ron! Stop hitting those bludgers at them, you foul creatures, it’s against all the ru—”

“Hermione!” Dean yelled. “They know it’s against the rules, that’s why they’re doing i—oh! FOUL! THAT’S ANOTHER FOUL! HE’S NOT ALLOWED TO PUNCH HIM LIKE THAT! COME ON, MAN, THIS IS JUST GETTING SICK, I MEAN—”

“Stupid gits!” Seamus bellowed.

“Come on Colin, go, just score one goal, one! That’s all I’m asking…”

“He’s going, he’s gonna get there … NOW IF ONLY CARTER WOULD BLOCK THE DAMN BLUDGERS, MAYBE HE COULD SCORE!”

“Oh. Lewis blocking works too.”

“COME ON COLIN! GO! YOU CAN DO IT! OH, BUT DON’T PUSH THEM LIKE THAT, THAT’S A BIT UNSPORTSMANLIKE—”

“HERMIONE, THEY HAVE BEEN BEATING US UP FOR THE PAST HOUR, AND YOU’RE ACCUSING US OF BEING UNSPORTMANLIKE?”

“HEY YOU, DOWN THERE, I SAW THAT! DON’T GLARE AT US, YOU KNOW YOUR TEAM’S CHEATING!”

“CREEVEY SCORES! SO NOW THE SCORE IS—”

“Seventy to twenty, Hufflepuff,” Seamus spat through clenched teeth. “Oh, the bastards…”

Suddenly Harry saw it.

The snitch.

Hovering about three feet away from Hufflepuff’s third goal post. Now if only he could get there…

But too late. Justin had seen it also, and was already beginning to dive towards it at full speed. Harry didn’t have time to think—without a second’s hesitation, he soared down into a dive as well.

“THEY SEE IT!” Dean suddenly announced, and the roaring of the crowds arose, if possible, even further.

Harry matched Justin’s speed and caught up to him, so now they were neck and neck.

This was it.

“This is it,” Seamus breathed, as he and Dean panted into the microphone.

“Come on, Harry, please, Harry,” Hermione chanted quietly in the background, her eyes wide, her fingers crossed against her chest.

“Come on, Harry,” Ginny said painfully, grasping her sore eye.

“You’ve got it, mate,” Ron said quickly, forcefully, as if trying to will Harry to catch that snitch with all his might.

“Faster, Potter,” McGonagall ordered quietly to him. Dean and Seamus were too transfixed with the scene to notice their professor’s sudden bias.

The whole of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin watched in silence, in terror, and in tension, as the seekers dove and dove, neck in neck.

They were fifty feet away now …

Twenty feet …

Ten feet …

Five feet …

Three feet …

And then both seekers reached out, grimaced, prayed—and one of them caught it tightly grasped in his palm, as the stadium erupted into cheers.

---

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny stepped into the bustling Great Hall for the last feast of the year. They glanced around at their housemates, their enemies, their teachers—and the banners hanging along all of the walls.

“This is weird,” Ron said in an undertone, glancing at the banner portraying a large badger. “Really weird.”

Harry nodded slowly. “No offense to Hufflepuff or anything, but I never thought I’d see them winning House and Quidditch Cup.”

“Me neither,” Ginny said honestly, glaring at a few Hufflepuffs as they passed. “Only I mean that with offense.”

“I guess everyone deserves to win sometime,” Hermione said quietly, leading them over to an empty spot at the Gryffindor table. They all sat themselves down. “Maybe now they’ve really gotten their anger off their chests, and everything can go back to how peaceful it was before…”

“Last time you said that,” Ron groaned, pointing to his bandaged arm, “this happened.”

Hermione shrugged and morosely picked at a loose thread on her sleeve.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but just then, Dumbledore rose to his feet and motioned for everyone to settle down. The chatter and excitement—with the exception of the already solemn Gryffindor table—died down almost completely and Dumbledore began his annual end-of-the-year speech.

“First of all, I want to say welcome to all of you, and I have some news regarding a teacher of ours. Remus Lupin, as you all know, has been transported to Saint Mungos. He is still deep within a coma and will remain in that coma for some time, I’m afraid.”

Harry looked down.

“Because of this, and other circumstances, he will not be rejoining the teaching staff next year. I’m sure he will be well missed by all, as he taught us so much during this year.”

“And ah, what a year it has been for us all, as usual. Exciting for some, challenging for others, enlightening for a few. And, of course, quite saddening, for many of us here tonight.” He raised a hand towards the Hufflepuff table, who all lowered their heads gravely. “Let us remember tonight, not only the victory of a house, but the loss of a young life. A good life, a strong life, an innocent life—lost at the hands of evil, Lord Voldemort.”

Several students shuddered.

“The Dark Lord, as he has shown, has risen again. Although this is quite a frightening thought, we cannot let ourselves live in fear. We have to stay united not as four houses, but as one school. The young girl who lost her life—known to some of us, foreign to others—serves as a symbol of what we are fighting for. And yes, we most certainly are fighting now. We are fighting for our lives, our hopes, our families, our friends, for good. We are fighting for good. No more lives shall be lost in the name of this horrible evil that has descended upon us, this hatred, this darkness, and that’s what we’re fighting for. We’re fighting today, tomorrow, for the next week, the next month, the next year—perhaps even the next ten years, we shall see. But we’re fighting. And he knows it. And I can bet each one of you that deep down, somewhere beneath all that evil and coldness—Lord Voldemort is afraid. And that, my friends, is worth fighting for.”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each other.

They exchanged quick, resolute smiles, unnoticed by anyone else, but significant all the same.

They had been fighting for six years.

No reason to give up now.

---

“Hey, Harry, Ron! There’s an empty compartment up here!” Ginny called, shoving her trunk through the train compartment doors.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way down the aisle of the Hogwarts Express.

They each pushed their trunks inside as well and took their seats along the benches, trying to make themselves comfortable.

“You know,” Ron stated suddenly, glancing towards the door, “I think we should stay inside here the entire train ride. Who knows, there could be the Gryffindor Hating Committee right outside in the corridor, just waiting for us to come out so they can hex us for no good reason.”

“I agree,” Ginny said heartily.

Just then, as the train began its lolling movement forward, Draco Malfoy appeared at the compartment door.

The four friends sighed. “What now, Malfoy?” they asked in unison.

He ignored the trio, for once, and instead turned to Ginny with an evil smirk. “So you’re back to hanging with these low-lives then, are you? Come on, up to my compartment, and get away from these foul excuses of people for awhile.”

Ginny smirked back. “If they’re foul excuses for people, Malfoy, then I’d hate to think of what you are. Foul excuse for a fungus, I’d say.” She paused. “No, no, sorry, you’re a bit lower than that, I think…”

Malfoy was obviously trying not to look too shocked. “But at Christmas, and everything, you—”

“—had an extreme lapse of judgment,” Ginny finished for him. “Now if you don’t mind,” she said sweetly, standing up and slamming the door in his face as Hermione performed a locking spell, “WE WOULD LIKE YOU TO LEAVE US THE BLOODY HELL ALONE!”

Harry and Ron let out a laugh, and Hermione smiled victoriously. They could hear Malfoy stomping away down the corridor.

“Harry,” Hermione said, growing suddenly solemn, “that reminds me of something.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, sobering as well.

“The prophecies,” she said quietly.

Ron and Ginny shifted in their seats. By now, they had been given full synopses of each prophecy and what it entailed, and it was somewhat of an uneasy subject for all of them.

“Why?” Harry asked her.

She frowned. “Well I’ve just been wondering, this whole time, who they could be referring to. And I think that the weasel one could be Malfoy.”

“But Dumbledore said that—”

“—it was between two people, yes,” she finished for Harry. “And I think Malfoy’s one of them.”

They pondered this.

“And the other two?”

“Yes,” she said, seeming to be calculating something in her head, “the cat—clever as a cat—going to vanquish an enemy—”

“It’s you,” Ron said suddenly, his eyes growing round. “Hermione, you’re the cat.”

Hermione let out a laugh. “Ron, don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t possibly vanquish an enemy of Harry’s.”

But Harry was staring at her now, too. “No, it sort of makes sense…and besides, I have to kill Voldemort, so why shouldn’t you have to kill someone too?”

Hermione shook her head fiercely. “Don't be ridiculous, Harry. I'm not going to kill anyone. It’s not me, all right? It doesn’t fit. Now let’s see, the dog…Dumbledore said the cat and dog were right in front of you, Harry. Do you think he meant in front of you right then?”

“No,” Harry replied, glancing at Ron. “I think he meant that they’re in front of me at all times.”

The four friends fell into silence at this.

They stayed silent for the rest of the train ride home, each lost in their own thoughts.

Ginny was massaging her eye and probably feeling pleased with herself for telling off Malfoy.

Ron was probably thinking about the match, and how awful it was to see Hufflepuff win. Even his own Firebolt hadn’t been dependable for success. He began to fiddle with the prefect badge on his robes.

Hermione gazed sadly out the window. Harry assumed she was thinking about summer with her parents, now that they were officially divorced. And she was also probably trying to figure out the prophecies, as she was always trying to figure out riddles and clues.

Harry, however, was thinking about his friends.

How they had let their quarrels consume all other feelings and emotions that year. How Fred and George had almost died. How Tonks had died. How the Hufflepuff girl had been tortured. How the air spells had been malfunctioning, causing a major heat wave. How pretty Hermione had looked at the ball. The look on Ron’s face when he got the news of his brothers. Waking up from his dream and discovering the real blood upon his robes. Going to Hogsmeade and seeing Hermione smack Ron over the head with a Mischief “Boobing” device. Seeing the look on Ron’s face when he opened his Firebolt. Seeing the hurt in Hermione’s face when she told him about her parents. Learning that Lupin might never wake up. Fighting with Ginny. Fighting with Ron. Ron fighting with Ginny. Ginny fighting with Hermione. Hermione fighting with Ron. Fighting with Hermione.

But most of all, he remembered how, in the midst of all the chaos and terror of one horrifying night, his friends had stood by him.

Lavender.

Parvati.

Dean.

Seamus.

Neville.

Ginny.

Hermione.

Ron.

They had been with him, even when they didn’t have to. They could have chosen not to, and yet they came, with terror and determination in their faces, in their voices. And the quarrels had been forgotten. Hermione had been amazed that Harry could think of such petty quarrels in a life threatening situation, but Harry didn’t find it so curious.

After all, it’s when we fear we might lose something forever that we really remember it.

And Harry knew that he didn’t want to lose his friends. But as he stared at each of them, on the train, he also realized that if evil could tear them apart once, it could do it again. And again.

But evil had also brought them back together, and that was Voldemort’s flaw. That’s what he forgot to plan on. And that, as Dumbledore said, was worth fighting for.

And Harry knew that he was going to fight for it.

---

And that, my friends, is The End.